A heavy Gear Story.

(written for a contest. It didn’t win. 😦 )

5 kilometers west of the Maglev
Approximately 75 kilometers NW of Khayr ad-Din
Late afternoon, 30 Summer TN1940)

  Sergeant MacKenzie Ian, squad leader of the 3rd Rangers Alpha Section, 99th Desert Sharks, had a problem.

 He and his squad had been on ambush at this particular pass for the last twelve hours waiting for the lead elements of a supposed CEF push for the Maglev to arrive. Intel had said the damn earthers were gunning for the high speed transport line in an effort to both limit Terra Novan movement and to serve as a means of their own ability to move towards either polar state.

 A sound plan, considering the health of this line was kind of key for communications between the two major nations…. And that pesky City of Sin, Debauchery and Dueling, Khayr ad Din.

No… he had a problem alright and it really wasn’t the long wait on ambush. That he’d done many a time before without issue. But he had always remembered to have used facilities prior to going and taken along containers for emergency needs. This time, with as rushed as their mobilization was… precluded ANY of those options.

And he really needed to go. Bad.

Studying the sensors of his Jaguar one more time, he tapped out a low-strength pulse message to the squad’s pint sized pseudo-duelist who was on Overwatch. [Swyft… anything?]

Silence for a minute. [Nope… for the third time in the last ten minutes.]
[Why? Nervous?]
[No… I gotta exit Surefoot for a fast minute… and you know my luck]

With that, the good Sergeant made up his mind and popped the hatch. He was gonna take care of business now, because you knew if he waited any longer….


Swyft shook her head in amusement. The small gear pilot rechecked her sensors one more time after her conversation with her friend. Of all the times nature had to call for her squad leader, an emergency deployment ambush is about the last place you want to have to-


The chime of her Cheetah’s advanced sensor package sounded and the curly-haired pilot quickly scanned her machine’s message. “Oh crap…” She hissed as she began tapping out an All-Call on the squad net…



Ian, happy to finally have been able to relieve himself, cringed when his portable comm unit chirped in rapid succession as he rearranged his Kilt. A glance at his comm-unit confirmed what his gut told him.

“Mahmoud damn them to the nine hells…” He swore as he quickly climbed up the external ladder to the pilot chair. It was about time the bastards showed up… he just hated their timing. But then, if the enemy always showed when you wanted them to, what fun would this be?

[Ok people, just as we practiced…] He sent on the tactical net as the inbound Earthers began to show up on his sensors…

Author: John T

Warrior-Sage and full time healer. Gamer and Arm Chair Analyst (who isn't these days?) who isn't afraid to read up on what I don't know.

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